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CARE OF PRISONERS OF WAR, 



NORXH AND SOUTH. 



n 



1 



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are of prisoners of Iffar, 



orth and South, 




^ ePaper^ 



READ BEFORE THE 



OHIO COMMANDERY 



-OF THE- 



Military Order of tlie Loyal Legion 



-OF THF,- 



Unitkd States, 



OCTOBER 5, 1887. 



-BY- 



A. B. ISHAM, 

Late ist Lieutenant Co. F, -jth Michigan Cavalry Volunteers, and ft 
seven months a prisoner of war in Rebel prisons. 



CINCINNATI : 

H. C. SHERICK & CO. 
1887. 



<<y 



^ 



^ 



^ 



IN BKHANGE 

JAN 5 - 1915 



Care of Prisoners of War, North and Sontli. 



From the immense armies called into the field, and the 
extended sphere of military operations during the great civil 
war, there necessarily accrued to the charge of each belligerent 
large contingents of prisoners of war. The Confederates who 
fell into the hands of the Union forces amounted, men and 
officers, to 476,169; whilst 188,145 Union men and officers 
were made prisoners of war by the Confederate troops. Not 
all, however, of these two enormous masses were held as 
captives of war. Of the Confederates, 248,599 were paroled 
on the field, leaving 227,570 who suffered confinement in 
prisons as prisoners of war. And one-half of the Federal 
prisoners, it is estimated, were paroled, leaving 94,072 who 
actually underwent confinement in the prisons of the South. 
The care of such large numbers, the safe keeping and proper 
maintenance, in regard to shelter, food, clothing, and hygienic 
environment — according to the laws of modern warfare, and 
as demanded by the civilization of the age, as well for 
prisoners of war as for those who may fall to the charge of 
the State under whatever circumstances — was a matter of no 
light moment. It involved the establishment of special 
bureaus, of camps and quarters, of an immense commissariat, 
of a considerable of an army for a guarding force ; and em- 
ployed an immense transportation equipment, a legion of 
contractors, special agents, and spies. In short, to make 
suitable provision for the sustentation, the well-being, and 
security of the captives, a burden was imposed but little 
inferior to supporting an active army of equal number in the 
field. How the obligations incumbent upon them toward the 
prisoners of war in their hands were discharged by the North 



— 4 — 

and the South is a part of the history of the struggle, which, 
while it may not be the most pleasant for consideration, in all 
its aspects, is not of secondary importance to any of the 
greatest affairs of the war. 

TREATMENT OF PRISONERS AT THE NORTH. 

At the North blind prejudice was rapidly fading away 
under the effulgent light diffused by the common school 
system, whose steady rays had about dispelled the ignorance 
and bigotr}'' which had subjected helpless fellow-creatures, 
under papular disfavor, to the most brutal ferocity. No 
longer anywhere north of Mason and Dixon's line, by general 
sanction, could there have been a recurrence of such scenes 
as were witnessed at Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692, or in 
New York City in 1741. Universal education had not only 
confirmed the immortal declaration that " all men are created 
free and equal," but it had also inculcated the sentiment that 
all men had claims to care and regard, and that, while they 
lived, whatever may have been their derelictions, they were 
not to be deprived of any of the common necessaries or con- 
solations of life with which it was possible to provide them. 
Animated by such feelings, the men of the North did not war 
against those of the South as against " hell-hounds," or 
"baboons," or " hellish brutes;" but as against misguided 
men, seeking to destroy the life of the Nation. The columns 
of blue, marching southward under the panoply of war, were 
terrible to behold ; yet few hearts there were beneath the 
glorious colors they bore which could not be touched by 
human suffering, or moved by appeals of woe. In the shock 
of battle stern determination heeded not death, or wounds, or 
physical agony ; but when the conflict of arms was over, no 
resentment was cherished to be expended upon defenceless 
captives which the fortunes of war had delivered over. 

Prisoners captured by the Federals were not murdered, 
robbed, insulted, or subjected to harsh treatment. Isolated 
instances where rough usage was experienced very likely did 



occur. But such treatment was rare, and was bestowed, 
generally, in retaliation for wrongs perpetrated by the rebels 
upon their comrades or upon Southern Unionists. After 
capture, instead of meeting with violence, abuse, and jeers, 
the rebel prisoners found their captors kindly disposed toward 
and interested in them. They generally bear testimony to 
the fact that rations were shared with them, and such gener- 
ous offices of relief and assistance as were not inconsistent 
with their position as prisoners were freely rendered, where 
the need existed. When not to be immediately paroled or 
exchanged, the captives were sent to some of the large prison 
camps at the North which had been prepared for their 
accommodation. The largest of these were located at 
Indianapolis, Ind. ; Columbus, Ohio ; Chicago, 111.; Elmira, 
N. Y. ; Fort Delaware, Del. ; St. Louis, Mo. ; Finn's Point, 
Md. ; Point Lookout, Md. ; Rock Island, 111.; Johnson's 
Island, Ohio; and Alton, 111. 

Many of the above camps had been in use as places of 
rendezvous for Union troops until they were in readiness to 
take the field. They were all selected with a special view to 
salubrity, and for the facilities they afforded to meet the wants 
of large bodies of men as regards water, fuel, and supplies. 
The quarters provided for the prisoners were precisely the 
same as for United States soldiers, and consisted, generally, 
of wooden barracks, arranged with bunks, well heated with 
stoves, and plentifully supplied with bedding of clean straw 
and blankets. To some extent tents had to be brought into 
requisition, but they were always fitted up with stoves for cold 
weather, and the Federal soldiers engaged in guard duty were 
quartered in all cases the same as the prisoners. Cook-houses, 
with full capacity and every convenience for preparing well 
cooked food, existed in every camp. The cooks were selected 
from among the prisoners themselves, so that if the cooking 
was not to their satisfacdon, it was in their power to rectify 
it. The food was the same as supplied to United States 
soldiers, and was ample in every respect. The prisoners 
were arranged in divisions, with chiefs of their own, who 



— 6 — 

attended to the distribution of rations, allotting to each man 
his proper share. Hospital buildings were fitted up the same 
as for Union soldiers, and the dietary and service accorded 
the prisoners was every bit as good as to our own troops. It 
is the testimony of Miss Dix, whose great good deeds in the 
interests of afflicted humanity are everywhere known, that, in 
several hospitals for rebel prisoners which she visited, there 
was even a greater abundance of all that tends to comfort and 
sustain the sick than in the hospitals for Union soldiers. Not 
only the sick, but also the prisoners generally, were permitted 
to receive food and clothing from friends and sympathizers. 
All money in possession of prisoners, or sent them by their 
friends, was, in order to prevent bribery of guards and escape, 
taken charge of by the prison authorities. It was placed to 
their credit, and could be drawn upon to purchase anything in 
the sutlers' stocks. The prisoners received the full benefit of 
it. Any surplus was turned over to them at the exchange, or 
in case of death it was transferred to the hospital fund for sick 
prisoners. They were supplied with newspapers, periodicals, 
and books, by private individuals and charitable organizations 
at the North, and in a number of prisons they had the advan- 
tage of circulating libraries secured to them through the 
efforts of the prison officials. Vegetables, fruits, and delicacies 
were sent in by outside parties in no unstinted measure ; 
indeed, they were ofttimes so liberally ministered unto as to 
cause serious discontent among the guards, who were 
neglected, and confined to the army rations. Clothing of all 
kinds required by a soldier was issued in accordance as a need 
for it was manifested, and the rebels, while prisoners of war, 
were better and more comfortably clad than while serving 
the Confederacy in the field. Facilities for the observance of 
personal cleanliness were within the reach of all. The con- 
solations of religion were not denied them. Chaplains were 
appointed to every camp ; and ministers, and all who went in 
the name of religion, were given ready access at all appro- 
priate times. No restrictions were put upon the prisoners as 
to speech or action, so that they were not disorderly, and did 



— 7 — 

not crowd together in certain portions of the camp so as to 
excite apprehensions of an organized attempt at escape. 
The drainage of all camps was well looked after, the grounds 
were kept thoroughly policed, and accumulations of dirt and 
offal were removed daily. On admission to the hospital, 
patients underwent a thorough ablution, were arrayed in clean 
garments, and placed in comfortable beds, while their cast-off 
clothing was thoroughly renovated and held in waiting for 
their recovery. In case of death, the body was interred in a 
decent, plain wooden coffin, and buried in a grave numbered 
and marked with the name of the deceased. So carefully were 
the interments made, that, out of 30,716 Confederates who died 
in Northern prisons, only 726 sleep in unknown graves — the 
most of these at Alton, 111., where, from some unknown 
cause, 662 graves bear no marks by which they can be 
identified. 

Notwithstanding the generous treatment they received, it 
is not surprising that the Confederate prisoners did not regard 
their confinement at the North as the most blissful period of 
their lives. Although they had a sufficiency of space, shelter, 
food, and clothing, with everything held requisite to meet the 
ordinary demands of existence, yet they were deprived of 
liberty, under the strictest military supervision, annoyed by 
daily roll-calls and inspections," wearied by the same unvarying 
daily routine and associations, depressed by unfavorable 
intelligence, or none at all, and heart-sick from long dis- 
appointed hopes. It is not at all improbable that many suffered 
from extremes of cold or heat. There were few soldiers of 
the Union, in field or quarters, who did not likewise experience 
discomfort when the mercury was carried to either extremity 
of the thermometric scale. There was some danger, too, of 
being shot by guards. While but a very small percentage 
were shot, and the guards did not indulge in reckless or 
unwarrantable shooting, there were prisoners who would 
sometimes make a bold break for liberty, and those who dis- 
regarded the repeated orders of the guards, thus drawing 
upon themselves the fire of their guns. In some of these 



— 8 — 

instances bullets flew wide of the mark, and prisoners who 
were in no wise concerned in such breaches of prison rules 
were wounded or killed. Disease was also present within the 
prison walls, for the most part brought in by the prisoners them- 
selves. They bore about with them small-pox, malarial dis- 
orders, diarrhoea, dysentery, consumption, and fevers. The 
ratio of disease, however, constantly decreased with the length 
of stay in prison, but the grim reaper garnered a rich harvest 
in the place where his coming is most unwelcome, although 
he sets the prisoner free. 

The average mortality among all the rebel prisoners at 
the North was 13^ per cent., or 7^ out of each hundred. 
The highest death rate was at Elmira, N. Y., 2,980 dying 
out of 12,147 confined there — a mortality of 25 per cent., or 
25 out of each hundred. No other Northern prison ap- 
proached anywhere near to it. Even this very large mortality 
was less than one-half of the average mortality of Union 
prisoners in the South, which was 53 per cent., or 53 out of 
each hundred. The greatest mortality among the rebel 
prisoners, with the solitary exception of those at Elmira, 
occurred during the first months of confinement, the health 
constantly improving, notwithstanding the prevalence of 
small-pox, after the first few months ; in this respect differing 
from the rebel prisons, where the mortuary rate increased with 
duration of confinement. 

Undoubtedly hardships were experienced through inade- 
quate hospital accommodations at the period of greatest 
mortality at Elmira and some other points, affording some 
basis of fact for the condemnation which writers on the 
Southern side have bestowed upon prison management at the 
North. But that there was culpable neglect or inhuman 
treatment of inmates is not borne out by the statements of 
prisoners entitled to credit. The same complaints find 
expression everywhere in regard to municipal hospitals and 
public institutions in times of great and unexpected increase 
of the sick list. The reports of starvation, cruel treatment, 
and brutal punishments published through the Southern press 



— 9 — 

are mere fabrications, invented to offset the true statements of 
Union soldiers concerning the horrible prison hells of the 
Confederacy. There are scores of former soldiers, now 
residents of Cincinnati and surrounding country, who, during 
their term of service, were assigned to guard duty over rebel 
prisoners of war at prisons both East and West. What has 
been here stated in reference to the conduct of these prisons 
they corroborate in every particular. These men as citizens, 
in social and business life, stand upon so high a plane as to 
admit of no questioning the positive statements they make 
concerning the prison management of which they have 
personal knowledge. Less numerous, perhaps, but not less 
reliable, are those in this community who were formerly 
prisoners of war at the South. They affirm that the returned 
rebel prisoners they had the opportunity to meet at the South 
during and at the close of the war, made willing acknowl- 
edgment of the very best treatment in every respect of Con- 
federates while they were held captive at the North. Not 
only this, but with their better feelings touched by the objects 
of pity all about them, they confessed their shame and 
humiliation that human beings should have been brought to 
such a pass upon Southern soil as the Union prisoners there 
paroled, or awaiting parole. 

In only two instances were measures of retaliation put in 
operation against any considerable number of rebel prisoners 
for all the terrible inflictions visited upon the Union prisoners 
by the Confederate authorities. One of these cases was where 
General Butler placed Confederates in the works at Dutch 
Gap, to check the forced employment of Unionists upon the 
rebel rortifications around Richmond. The other was at 
Charleston, when United States officers, prisoners of war, 
were placed under fire by the rebels, General John G. Foster 
exposed an equal number of rebel officers on Morris Island to 
the fire of the rebel guns. In both these instances the desired 
result was accomplished. The Confederates stopped their 
objectionable proceedings. It is true, that in November, 1863 
Secretary Stanton ordered the United States Commissioner of 



lO — 

Exchange *' to subject the rebel prisoners in our hands to 
treatment similar to that which our men receive in rebe^ 
prisons/' The Commissioner replied that human nature 
would not submit to such treatment under an ordinary system 
of guards, and the order was never executed. Union soldiers 
and officers could not have been found so destitute of all the 
common attributes of humanit}' as was requisite for such work. 

TREATMENT OF PRISONERS AT THE SOUTH. 

In a Confederacy founded upon servile labor, the leaders 
held all labor as degrading, and the worker as but little 
superior to a brute. They affected to hold in contempt the 
population of the North, which allowed to every individual 
the greatest freedom of action consistent with the general 
good, held honest toil in the highest respect, recognized 
the universal brotherhood of man, and were unequalled in 
intelligence and industry upon the face of the globe. The 
free people of the North were denominated "mudsills," 
*' hirelings," "serfs," "boors," "cattle," declared groveling by 
nature, brutal through instinct, hellish in propensity, and pos- 
sessed of peculiar organs of bodily development belonging only 
to the brute creation. This sort of stuff filled the Southern 
prints, and was proclaimed from the rostrum and pulpit, until 
quite a large portion of the population of the South, honest 
enough, but uninformed, and accustomed to implicit reliance 
upon their leaders, actually believed that they were in political 
alliance with a species of ogres. President Lincoln -was 
pictured as a hideous ape, and Vice-President Hamlin as a 
thick-lipped, woolly-headed " nigger." When the General 
Government, after the ordinance of secession had been passed, 
and an overt act of war committed by the seizure of United 
States property, prepared to re-establish its authority, the 
chiefs of rebellion, while manifesting a pacific disposition in 
the expression of a desire to be let alone, were nevertheless 
active in inflaming their people to a white heat of passion. It 
was announced that their soil was about to be invaded by 



1 1 



" vandals,'' "spoilers," " ravishers," "fiends," who were to 
be " welcomed with bloody hands to hospitable graves," but 
accorded no rights of belligerents. Long tyranny over a slave 
population had so brutalized their natures, that not a few of 
the public men and journals of the South boldly advocated the 
policy oi hoisting the black flag — that is, showing no mercy to 
prisoners, but killing all whom fate might deliver over to them — 
wounded, or sick, or well. The infamous treatment which 
unfortunates of war in the South subsequently experienced is 
fully foreshadowed in the utterances of politicians, press, and 
pulpit, and in letters to Jefferson Davis and members of his 
cabinet, now among the captured rebel archives at Wash- 
ington. 

As the legitimate outcome of the feeling engendered, as 
above outlined, when Union prisoners were taken they were 
most generall}^ threatened, insulted, or violently dealt with. 
First, upon the battle-field, they were beaten, shot, or bayonet- 
ted, made the recipients of the most vile and blasphemous 
epithets, and robbed of personal property, jewelry, money, 
pocket articles, mess utensils, blankets, overcoats, hats, coats, 
pants or boots ; in not a few instances stripped nearly naked. 
The journey to a receiving prison not rarely occupied from 
several days to a week. The guarding force was usually 
cavalry. The prisoners were hurried along by their mounted 
escort ; the sick and wounded spurred along with the rest ; and 
when the physical strength was spent beyond resuscitation by 
any kind of goading, so that they fell out of the line unable 
to keep up, they were shot, cut down by sabres, or brained 
by clubbed muskets, and left for dead by the wayside. 
Sometimes a rope was tied around the body of a disabled cap- 
tive, the free end made fast to the saddle of a guard, and thus 
the life dragged out of the poor victim. Very little food, if 
any, was supplied upon such marches. Rebel troops encoun- 
tered upon the journey still further despoiled and abused the 
prisoners. Where railroad transportation was included in 
the route, box cars, in which cattle had been transported, 
were provided. Very often the cars were in the same condition 



12 — 



in which the cattle had left them. Into such conveyances the 
prisoners were packed so thickly that, stow themselves as 
snugly as they could, there was not seating room upon the 
floor for all. The doors were only left open about two feet, 
which space was obstructed by guards, excluding air and 
light. The prisoners were kept back from the openings, so 
that they were reduced to the level of animals going to the 
shambles, except that the latter were not so closely packed 
that they could not lie down, and have some little freedom of 
movement. The sufferings of such a passage ma}^ be imagined ; 
they may not be here described. 

Upon arrival at the receiving prison they were drawn 
up in line to be searched. Here money, jewelry, and articles 
of use which had escaped the observation or desires of the 
captors were taken from them. Where it was suspected the 
clothing contained articles of value concealed, they were 
stripped naked, the lining and seams of the clothing ripped 
out, and, in this condition, it was tossed back to the owners to 
be put in shape for use again as best they might. Nothing 
was ever returned, nor was anything given to take the place 
of knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups, clothing, or blankets, of 
which they had been despoiled. Protests were responded to 
by blows and even by shooting to the death. The- search 
over, installment in prison quarters followed. 

The prisons at Richmond and Danville, up to the spring of 
1864, held the great bulk of prisoners in the Confederacy. 
The prisons of Richmond, with the exception of Belle Isle, 
were old tobacco warehouses, all three stories in height with 
an attic; and they differed only in size, Libby Prison being 
the largest. In 1863 they were all crowded to their full 
capacity. An account of Smith Prison will serve for Pember- 
ton, Scott, Castle Thunder, and the rest. Each floor of Smith 
Prison had an area of 2,400 square feet, and it was so packed 
with prisoners that they had only four square feet each, just 
sufficient for standing room. There were no stools, benches, 
or bunks upon which to rest themselves — nothing but the 
bare floor and walls. In order to be able to lie down, rows 



— 13 — 

had to be formed lengthwise across the room, and, the first 
row lying down upon their sides, the second row followed, 
interlocking legs with the first, and so with the other rows 
until the floor was everywhere covered with a compact mass 
of humanity. The space did not permit lying upon the back. 
After being thus welded in, it was impossible for an individual 
to turn over without the whole two rows did likewise. Water 
was furnished in pipes to each floor, and faucets and sinks 
were located at one end of the rooms in each story. There 
were no receptacles for water beyond a wooden tub at the 
faucet, which economical provision, together with the close 
packing of the prisoners, rendered general bathing and wash- 
ing of clothes an impossibility. From overflow at the sinks, 
and spilling of water by jostling as it was carried in cups to 
sick or disabled men in various parts of the room, the floor 
was kept constantly wet, so that the captives were ever present 
in a cold, foul, moisture-saturated atmosphere. No approach 
was permitted to the windows ; for if the guard below caught 
sight of a prisoner, he was immediately shot. No stoves or 
any means of warming were furnished for cold weather, and to 
keep warm the guests of Confederate prisons must tramp 
around and slap themselves day and night. Death was busy 
among tliem, and would soon have made sufficient floor space, 
had not fresh prisoners been continually added. " Lice were 
in all their quarters." The prisoner who would keep himself 
measureably clear of these pests had his hands never idle. 

The rations at Richmond and Danville were issued cooked. 
They were essentially the same at all the prisons in the Con- 
federacy — with the exception of Savannah, where suflicient 
food of good quality was furnished — and consisted of eight 
ounces of bread and two ounces of yellow, maggoty bacon, 
or, in place of the bacon, a proportionate amount of fresh 
beef. The bread was generally corn bread, made from meal 
ground corn and cob together, simply mixed with salt and 
water and baked hard. Sometimes a thin decoction called 
soup was served, made up of water, and long worms, bugs, and 
brown beans in about equal proportions. Occasionally, too, a 



— 14— 

tablespoonful of rice per man added luxury to the fare. If any 
escapes had been made, or a board of the prison floor ripped 
up, the rations were withheld for a day or two, nor was the 
deficit ever made good. Upon such diet the weight and 
strength rapidly declined. As the body became thinner the 
angularities and protuberances of the bony skeleton grew into 
prominence. This interfered with rest on account of the 
difficulty of comfortably adapting the man}' inequalities of a 
lean human body to the plane of a hard, level floor. An 
almost continual shifting of position told that it was impossi- 
ble to equalize the pressure long in any situation suitable to 
wholesome slumber. Soreness and aching took hold on the 
more salient osseous projections all over the frame. Sleep 
only seemed to add more cruel pangs to the hunger which 
consumed whilst awake. The sleeper always dreamed of 
excursions in quest of food, or of gorgeous banquets, at which 
he never failed to become surfeited. Awakening, with the 
vision of abundance before him, the cravings of starving 
tissues gnawed with tenfold intensity. It was impossible to 
keep still ; there was an aimless walking up and down, search- 
ing with the eyes every inch of the walls, ceilings, and floor, 
although it was perfectly apparent that plain brick walls and 
floors, and open, unplastered joists which had been thoroughly 
explored numberless times before, could not change their 
appearance; could show no hiding place or secret passage; 
could afford no succor, comfort, or any hope of escape. 

Belle Isle was an island in the James River opposite Rich- 
mond, just above the Danville Railroad bridge. The upper 
part was high ground covered with trees, but the lower por- 
tion was a sand flat, unprotected from the scorching sun of 
summer or the cutting winds of winter. This barren spot 
was surrounded by a deep, wide ditch, and earth works, and 
an average number of (\ve thousand prisoners were there 
confined. Some old rotten Sibley tents were given for shelter, 
but with the utmost crowding they were not sufficient for one- 
half the prisoners. No stoves being provided, the inmates 
built chimneys of mud, which, however, afforded them little 



— 15— 

comfort, since the wood issued per day was not sufficient to last 
more than an hour and a half with the most careful use. In 
the severe winter of 1863-4, when the river was frozen over 
and the ground often covered with snow, the starving captives 
upon this bleak sand waste were in terrible straits. The great 
majority were without shoes, stockings, or shirts. Many, 
too, were without coats or pants, and the clothing [possessed 
by the most fortunate among them was simply tattered rags. 
To husband the warmth of their famishing bodies they 
dug pits in the damp sand, and lay piled upon one another 
in them like hogs, the outside layers changing to the in- 
side when they could no longer withstand the cold. Every 
night there were a number who ceased to change places, and 
morning found them cold in death. The living, to cover their 
own necessities, took the clothing from the bodies no longer 
m need of it, and everything went on as usual. Though 
water flowed all around them, they were denied its free use. 
Only six were allowed to pass to the river at a time during 
the day, and none at all at night. In consequence, to procure 
a sufficiency of this vital fluid, they had to dig holes in the 
camp, which filled up with water ; and, although foul from camp 
pollutions, inexorable necessity forced its use. In the full 
view of Richmond, under the eye of Jefferson Davis himself, 
these men died off" like plague-stricken sheep. Food and 
clothing sent them by the United States Government, and 
by relatives at the North, they derived little benefit from, 
since nine-tenths was appropriated by the rebels. The only 
advantage which the sick had over the others on Belle Isle 
was in the thin layer of straw which covered the ground 
under the hospital tents.. 

At Danville the prisoners were quartered in old tobacco 
warehouses— packed together as at Richmond. Their con- 
dition was even more deplorable at Danville, since they had 
to procure their water supply from the Dan River, some dis- 
tance removed, carrying it in buckets. Hence they suffered 
greatly from thirst, besides being wholly unable to obtain 
enough for washing purposes. From insufficiency of sink 



— 16— 

accommodations they were obliged to live and sleep in their 
own tilth. It may be said of the prison hospitals at Richmond 
and Danville, that, by comparison with other such places in 
the Confederacy, they were entitled to be considered luxurious 
sick quarters. Not that any delights were ever experienced 
by the sick there which the memory would fondly linger over, 
but they were provided with bunks and beds, enough straw, 
old blankets, and quilts to afford them warmth, together with 
enough wheat bread, and soup hash, made up of meat and 
potatoes, to support life in a well man, however much unsuited 
such a diet might be to the wants of the sick. 

Time does not permit more than a passing reference to 
Salisbury, N. C, a Golgotha where 12,121 soldiers of the 
Union perished, as at Belle Isle, from starvation and exposure, 
a mortality of fifty per cent., or one death out of every two 
prisoners confined there. The record of horrors which Salis- 
bury discloses is scarcely less appalling than is furnished by 
the prison stockade at Andersonville, Ga., which enclosed 
within its portals more of human misery, more of human 
endurance, devotion, patriotism, and heroism than was ever 
exhibited upon any other equal area of surface upon earth. 

In December, 1863, while erecting the stockade at Ander^ 
sonville. Captain W. S. Winder said that he was "going to 
build a pen that would kill more damned Yankees than could 
be destroyed at the front." The original enclosure included 
about fifteen acres, which was enlarged to twenty-five acres 
in August, 1864. The only internal improvements the rebels 
had arranged for the reception of the prisoners were a dead 
line, and some old tents for hospital purposes in one corner 
of the pen. All else was in a state of nature, except that 
the trees had been cut away. The first few thousand prisoners 
from Belle Isle, installed in March, 1864, were allowed, under 
guard, to bring in wood from the forest, with which they con- 
structed rude hovels like primitive pig pens, but capable of 
shielding them from the weather. No such privilege, how- 
ever, was extended to those subsequently turned in, a large 
percentage of whom were old prisoners from Richmond and 



— 17 — 

Danville. Thrown thus upon their own resources, some dug 
burrows in the ground, some piled up circular banks of earth 
which they covered over with blankets, coats, or shirts, and 
crawled beneath ; others moulded clay into the shape of bricks, 
dried them in the sun, and, by inclosing the walls together, 
made adobes of beehive form, into which they could creep; 
while many, too weak or disheartened to resort to such "'shifts 
for shelter, remained wholly unprotected from sun, and dews, 
and storms. 

A swamp about four hundred feet in width occupied the 
center of the pen, through the middle of which coursed a 
brook four feet wide by two feet deep. This stream furnished 
the water supply for the prisoners for all purposes. The rebel 
camps were located on it just about where it passed into the 
stockade, and, as all their camp waste was discharged 
directly into it, the water was already polluted when it entered 
the prison enclosure. From the edge of the swamp, upon 
either side, the ground rose very considerably, carrying all 
the drainage to the swamp and stream. The stream thus 
became an open sewer, and the vile sewerage flowing through 
it, the fluid with which 31,000 men must slake their thirst and 
use in place of pure water for all cleansing oflices. If a 
prisoner reached under the dead line to obtain a purer drink 
than could be obtained inside of it, he was at once shot by 
the guard, ever on the watch for the shadow of a pretext to do 
a murderous deed. It is true that some of the prisoners dug 
wells, from which they obtained water of fair quality ; but for 
the general mass there was no other alternative than to employ 
the disgusting compound of the brook, until the latter part of 
August, 1864, when a never-failing spring of crystal water 
burst forth in the stockade, and it was hailed as a direct gift 
from God. After heavy rains the whole marsh overflowed, 
forming a lake of excrementitious matter. The evaporations 
from this gave rise to nauseous, noxious vapors, which were a 
source of annoyance to even citizens for miles around. The 
subsidence of the waters left the surface of the morass covered 
over with a mass of reeking filth, quivering with the move- 



— i8 — 

ments of the lowest forms of insect life. At night pestilential 
fogs arose from the bog, filling the whole enclosure with a 
saturating, sickening, oppressive mist. Men enfeebled 
through starvation and disease, in crawling to the stream for 
water, became mired in the horrible ooze of the swamp, and 
thus jnelded up the ghost. 

The dead and dying were everywhere. In the holes 
which they had dug, to be revealed only by the odors of 
decomposition ; half buried in the terrible grime of the swamp ; 
while all over the stockade, exposed to the scorching rays of 
the noonday sun, in all their ghastly hideousness, were skeleton 
forms whose light had flickered out for want of fuel to feed it. 
The dead, bare of clothing, were piled like cordwood into 
army wagons, hauled out to the cemetery, thrown side by side 
into a long ditch, and a layer of dirt shoveled over them. 
The same wagons, uncleansed, containing putrid remnants of 
their former freight, brought in the rations to the living. 
Great swarms of flies hovered about them, and announced 
their coming by a hum which filled the air, and mufiled all 
other sounds. To one-half the camp the rations were issued 
cooked, and to one-hall uncooked, alternating with each 
issue. The wood furnished was pilch pine, but not more than 
one-eighth of what was requisite for the proper cooking of the 
food. When ignited, it gave ofl' a dense oily smoke, which 
begrimed the prisoners like soot, and which, for lack of soap, 
they were unable to remove. The whole skin became black- 
ened, the Saxon features and straight hair forming the only 
points of distinction from the negro. Deprived of cooking 
utensils, pieces of tin, bits of chips, and stones were the only 
available substitutes for pots and kettles. From the crumbling 
of the meal, however, but one side could be heated with such 
miserable appliances, so that, at best, the ration was not more 
than half cooked, and thus had to be eaten. Many were 
destitute of even a chip or a stone, and were forced to ingest 
their food raw. With famine pressing ever harder and harder, 
numbers of men lost all moral sense, and thought only of self- 
preservation. They openly robbed weaker men of rations or 



— 19 — 

possessions, and murdered stronger ones while they slept in 
order to obtain anything, of even the slightest value, they 
might have upon their persons. Words fail to paint the 
horrors oi the place. The very soil seemed to crawl from the 
swarms of vermin upon it. Here and there throughout the 
squalid skeleton throng were the subjects of diarrhoea and 
dysentery in process of dissolution. Wallowing in their own 
refuse, the vermin crawling and rioting upon their flesh, 
tumbling into eyes, ears, and open mouths, while maggots fed 
beneath the skin where scurvy sores had broken open. The 
ravages of gangrene were to be seen upon every hand, the 
flesh eaten from the limbs, exposing ligaments and bones, and 
the great worms revelling in the putrid flesh. Scurvy had 
fixed its seal upon nearly every prison inmate, and most 
horrible are its aspects in its extreme stages. Those nearly 
naked shapes of men, with glassy, sunken eyes, hollow 
cheeks, parchment skin, and with bones projecting bare of 
tissue through scurvy-destroyed structures, conveyed to the 
mind the idea of life after death, as though they had been 
resurrected after long burial, and had the breath of life infused. 
Here, too, groped blind men whom scurvy or gangrene had 
robbed of sight, begging most piteously lor food — food, the 
want of which was graven on every lineament of the whole 
mass, whose intense yearning, although it broke not forth in 
articulate accents, was none the less powerful and plaintive. 
Gaping idiots, with their lusterless orbs fixed upon vacancy, 
wandered aimlessly around, until their undirected steps 
crossed the dead line, when the fatal bullet sped them to their 
rest. Reason had fled — small wonder — from those poor 
wretches, who tore their rags, gnashed their teeth, howled 
and muttered, and cursed, and precipitated themselves upon 
their fate as they made an insane rush for the stockade. The 
tents, which it were a mockery to call hospitals, presented a 
spectacle of monumental wretchedness without parallel in 
ancient or modern history. Three thousand men were lying 
there upon the bare ground, uncovered by anything except the 
filthiest rags, which were saturated with purulent matter and 



20 



green with mould. They had been placed there to die. As 
they rotted away, tortured with intense pain, the dead flesh 
dropping from their bones upon the sand, with swarms of flies 
and vermin preying upon them, and hideous worms, too 
greedy to wait till life was extinct, tumbling, and revelling, 
and rioting in the putrid mass, all that escaped their lips was 
the low, moaning, pleading cry for food. 

Thus these martyrs for the Union died and were buried, 
like pest-stricken animals, without benefit of clergy. The 
Protestant clergy of the South generally passed by on the 
other side. There were, of course, individual instances of 
generous conduct ; but no class in the South was more bitter 
it its hatred, more devoid of charity toward Northern soldiers, 
than the Southern clergy. They were swift to furnish cer- 
tificates of immaculate Christian character to the fiends who 
starved and tortured thousands of Federal prisoners, but few 
acts of mercy toward the sufferers has the recording angel 
credited to their account. In marked contrast was the con- 
duct of the Catholic clergy at Andersonville and elsewhere. 
Only hearts into which had been poured the fullness of divine 
love were endowed with the courage and grace to be God's 
messengers in those fearful prison hells. Such divine seal 
bore the Sisters of Charity at Charleston, and the Rev. VVm.J. 
Hamilton and other priests at Andersonville. Crawling into 
the burrows, swarming with insect pests and reeking with 
corruption, these devoted men administered the last consola- 
tions of their church to the skeleton creatures with the agony 
of death upon them. Not only spiritually minded were they, 
but they were also practical Samaritans. Turnips, potatoes, 
onions, radishes, were secreted in their clothing, which they 
furtively slipped into the hand of one and another scurvy- 
ravished wretch, so as not to attract the attention of the guard. 

The brutal punishments, the shameful indignities, the 
systematic, studied efforts to destroy the loyalty and wholly 
crush the spirits of these men, must be passed over without 
comment. It is sufficient to say that no equal body of men 
in such woeful straits could have been more faithful, patient, 



— 21 



undismayed, and uncomplaining. With flaming posters upon 
the stockade, and recruiting agents every day mounted upon 
the parapet, offering abundant food, clothing, and pay to all 
who would accept service under the Confederacy, only 580 ot 
the famished, pestilence-smitten multitude at Andersonville 
were seduced from their allegiance to the stars and stripes-. 
Out of the whole number of pitiably distressed prisoners in 
the Confederacy, only about 3,000 held their lives more 
sacred than their soldierly honor, and enlisted in the rebel 
army. Most of these, however, were soon returned back to 
their prison quarters, since they were ever seeking oppor- 
tunities to get within the Union lines. 

Rebel prison treatment occasioned the death of 50,000 
Federal soldiers. Some of these deaths must naturally have 
occurred, and allowing for these 13^ per cent, (the average 
mortality of rebel prisoners at the North), the mortality should 
have been 12,592 for the 94,072 Union prisoners, leaving 
37,508 who were the direct victims of starvation, overcrov\d- 
ing, and exposure. Of the whole who died, 43,000 repose in 
Southern soil, and 7,000 died during transportation North, or 
in hospitals shortly after arrival. The total number killed 
upon the Union side in all the engagements of the war was 
44,238, or 5,762 less than were destroyed in rebel prisons ! 
The average deaths for all the rebel prisons is thus 53 percent., 
or 53 deaths out of every 100 prisoners. Nearly one-half of 
this mortality is due to Andersonville. While the interments 
at that place number but 13,705, yet the prisoners confined 
there were distributed to Florence, Charleston, Millen, Black- 
shear, Eufaula, Cahawba, Savannah, and other places ; so 
that the mortality at these prison stations, as pertaining to old 
prisoners at Andersonville, may properly be added. 40,611 
Union soldiers passed through the portals of that infamous 
pen, of which number 23,000 perished, a mortality of 59 per 
cent., or 59 out of each 100. Of 94,072 Union prisoners held 
by the rebels, 50,000 died. Of 227,570 Confederate prisoners 
held by the United States, 30,152 died. To have attained a 
mortality rate in the Northern prisons equal to that in the 



— 22 — 

Southern prisons there should have been 120,602 deaths out 
of the 227,570 Confederate prisoners, instead of 30,152. 

The people of the South, generally, may be absolved from 
willing complicity in the heinous system of treatment, which, 
through the most cruel torments, deprived 50,000 men of life, 
"and made physical wrecks of thousands more. Citizens in 
the vicinity of all prisons sought to alleviate the condition of 
the inmates, but they were roughly repulsed by the authorities. 
Letters protesting against the atrocious prison management, as 
a crime appealing to God, were sent to Jefferson Davis by 
citizens and guards, and he was urged to set the prisoners free 
if it was not possible to give them what they were entitled to 
as human beings. To the members of the rebel congress, 
and governors of states, who remonstrated with him concern- 
ing the treatment of prisoners, he justified it solely on the 
ground of "polic}^." In carrying out this infamous policy he 
found a fit agent in his particular friend. General John H. 
Winder. Early in 1864, when Winder left Richmond to 
assume charge at Andersonville, the Richmond Examiner 
thus editorially hailed his departure : "Thank God that Rich- 
mond is at last rid of old Winder. God have mercy upon 
those to whom he has been sent." In a report upon Anderson- 
ville, August 5, 1864, Colonel D. T. Chandler, of the Con- 
federate Inspector-General's office, after characterizing the 
prison as "a disgrace to civilization," with horrors surpassing 
description, advises the removal of General Winder as one 
wholly devoid of feelings of humanity, who "deliberately, and 
in cold blood," advocated leaving the prisoners in their over- 
crowded condition until death had so thinned them as to give 
sufficient space. Jeff". Davis responded by promoting Winder 
to the control of all prisoners east of the Mississippi. When 
the fiendish creature Wirz was brought to trial for his crimes, 
Jefferson Davis, then in Fortress Monroe, and James A. 
Seddon, in Fort Lafayette, with visons of the halter before 
them, had no more to say about "policy," but pleaded a state 
of famine throughout the South in extenuation for the starva- 
tion of prisoners. They summoned to their relief that master 



— 23 — 

of deception and trickery, Robert Ould, whose keener mental 
acumen saw that a defense could not be rested upon a poverty 
of supplies alone, in the light of letters from the South— 
among the captured archives— begging them to set the 
prisoners free, and he boldly proceeded to shift the responsi- 
bility for the destruction of Union prisoners upon the United 
States Government by the preposterous claim that he had 
offered to turn over these prisoners, without equivalent, to the 
Federal Commissioner of Exchange, who had neglected to 
provide transportation, according to his agreement. This was 
unequivocably denied by the Commissioner, and Ould, while 
acknowledging that his proposition was not written, only 
verbal, sought to substantiate it by statements from one and 
another in the South-^among others. General Lee— that he 
(Ould) had told them, some time previously, that he had 
made such a proposal. This invention of Ould's, at that time 
to create a diversion in favor of the guilty heads of the rebel- 
lion and save their necks, accomplished its purpose ; and rebel 
apologists ever since have put it forward as an established 
fact. Even as late as 1876 General Imboden, and another 
genius, "to fortune and to fame unknown," have had the cool 
effrontery to affirm, that, to their positive knowledge, large 
bodies of prisoners were sent to posts within the Union lines 
to be turned over upon a receipt from the post commander, 
which, being refused, no alternative remained but to return 
the prisoners again to their pens. No such thing ever happened. 
Had it been so, with a desire to be relieved of these prisoners, 
they would have turned them loose to take care of themselves, 
upon their individual paroles. The dire responsibility for the 
starving of prisoners is not to be shirked by any sort of fabri- 
cation, however ingenious. It is no matter what caused the 
cessation of exchange, it is no matter if all overtures for 
exchange were refused by the Federal Government, provided 
the Confederacy possessed the ability to feed the prisoreis in 
Its hands. That supplies were withheld, which could have 
been readily furnished, appears from the following facts : 



— 24 — 

1. It is the testimon)^ of rebel surgeons at prison camps, 
and of Catholic priests who visited them, that they were not 
permitted to carry in articles of food to the prisoners. Also 
of rebel citizens that they were not allowed to minister to their 
necessities, although they made attempts to do so. 

2. A plentiful food supply was offered to all who would 
enter the Confederate service, and it was given to those who 
did. 

3. The great bulk of the supplies sent by the United States 
Government and citizens was appropriated by the Confederate 
authorities, and but little reached the prisoners themselves. 

4. An abundant ration, of good quality, was issued to 
prisoners at Savannah at the very time it was claimed there 
was nothing to give the prisoners at Andersonville. 

5. There was no wholesale starvation of citizens or negroes. 

6. General Sherman subsisted his arm}- upon the country 
in the neighborhood of the rebel prisons, and found supplies 
in profusion. 

One feature of the exchange question may be alluded to, 
since it has been urged that the rebel authorities would not 
wish to destroy their prisoners, as in that event they must rob 
themselves of their own soldiers, prisoners at the North, for 
whom they would have no exchange equivalent. It was 
always insisted upon by the Confederate commissioner of ex- 
change, when the balance of prisoners was against them, as 
a basis of a general exchange, that all surplus prisoners should 
be turned over, under parole. Thus, to whatever verge they 
might reduce Union prisoners, in any agreement foi a general 
exchange they were always sure of receiving back all their 
own. 

However harrowing the sufferings and death of the true 
soldiers of the Republic in Southern prisons, they lived and 
died not in vain. They kept back from the lines confronting 
Grant and Sherman nearl}^ three to one of their numbers of 
able-bodied veteran rebel soldiers. According to General 
Grant, the very salvation of the country depended upon them ; 
for, if the host they held at bay was added to the hostile ranks? 



— 25 — 

as it would have been in case of a general exchange, regardless 
of the obligations of parole, repeatedly violated before when 
the urgency was not so great, the armies of Grant and Sher- 
man might have been overwhelmed, and a Southern Con- 
federacy established. And there is left as a rich legacy for 
all time, the sublime heroism they displayed in their unswerv- 
ing devotion to the flag they loved, under whatever inflictions 
or temptations, and the declaration, sealed with their lives, 
that they were content to roL and die if the interests of their 
country demanded it. 

Upon Jefferson Davis and his advisers rests the fearful 
weight of responsibility for the ruthless sacrifice of these men. 
Winder, Seddon, and Wirz have gone to their account. Jeff'. 
Davis still lives, a phenomenal monument to the mercy of a 
benignant government and a long suffering Providence. He 
chews the cud of bitter disappointment, a thousand-fold 
intensified by the unscrupulous effbrts he put forth to achieve 
success. A burden to the South, over which he exercised an 
absolute dictatorship, with the design of perpetuating it in 
name as well as in fact, whose people he impoverished and 
whose best blood he wasted, grown garrulous and more ran- 
corous with age, he stands upon the brink of eternity. With 
the light fading out from the twilight, with what apprehensions 
must he turn his vision toward the great unknown ; what 
forms of starving, tortured victims must beckon to him from 
out the impenetrable shades. 



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